


No One Has Time For An Asshole In Uniform

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course when Kankri needs to be with his brother the most, some flirting asshole stands in the way and he happens to snap at the wrong time and to the wrong person. Though quite frankly Kankri never wants to see this guy again, he finds himself needing him more than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**August 9 th 2012**

It’s the third day in a row that Karkat refused to eat. After he had stated that he wasn’t hungry in a sleepy drawl with his head in his hands; you simply sighed and stared blankly ahead at the dingy, yellowing wall behind your younger brother. At this point, you’ve completely lost your appetite too. Not just of the overcooked pasta on your plate, but your whole humdrum routine that erodes you five days a week.

“Hey shit for brains.” You perk up out of your thoughts when Karkat tosses a crumpled napkin at you. “Can I go back to bed now?”

Without a response, you wave your hand dismissively and rub your tired eyes. It almost breaks your heart to see him so morose. The only thing you can do is let him rest and give him food that he refuses to eat.  

Misery eats at your overworked flesh, yet you still manage to stand and scrape your food in the trash barrel. You frown down into the plastic bag, seeing how much you let go to waste- which also reminds you that you have to take out the trash. With a roll of the shoulders and a good rubbing of the eyes, you’re back in business again to finish the job of your prosaic Thursday. Only one more day, you could do it. Friday’s payday- the day that you can finally buy Karkat some more pain killers since they are the only thing that keep him running, more than food.

Both of you need to keep your engines going or you’ll be in a shithole. Distractions are inevitable for you at work. You often find yourself dozing, which is never a good thing. In fact you’ve been doing it now, staring down into the full trash barrel. It was only a matter of time before you started drooling.

Putrid stenches rebirth once the bag is lifted, causing you to gag for a good minute. Your fingers scramble to tangle the ends of the bag together to control the smell before you head out the back door, tossing the bag in the large green bin to your right.

Though it’s only eight, you’re ready for bed. Floorboards groan under your weight, adding some noise to the house besides the silence that is all too loud. The sound of your walking is muffled once your feet transfer to the carpet of your room and remain dead silent when you topple onto your bed.

There’s nothing you want more than to escape, preferably into your plush body pillow. It had been a Christmas present from the Maryams just last year, but you found yourself using it much more these past few months. Eventually, you find yourself curled around it, calming yourself by shoving your face into the pillow. You wonder if this would count as fuzz therapy, which you have heard of before on the internet. Whether if it was or not, this pillow was definitely therapeutic.

You blindly pulled your phone out of your pocket, holding down the power button so that absolutely no one could bother you. This was your special time, just like everyone else was entitled to have- your time to rest and enjoy the quiet that other than times like this, was unbearable. You allowed your eyes to close, bidding the horrible Thursday a goodbye.

**August 10 th 2012**

In what seems like a blink of an eye, you’re back in your office. Sleep did help some, but not enough. There’s still some kind of uncertainty that drowns your thoughts. There’s nothing to worry about, Karkat’s little clown friend was at the house with him. What was his name again? You choose not to dwell on it any further and instead continue to scroll through documents on your computer screen. _Damn, this thing is filthy._

Your fingers begin to wipe off the dirt on the computer screen, though you only end up smearing it even more. This cubicle’s getting smaller by the day. The workforce’s internet is getting slower, workers more forgetful, and your damn boss even more of a bitch. You sigh and push out of your swivel chair and slide open your desk drawer to get yet another dark chocolate. You’re not even in the mood for chocolate, but hey, you need fuel off of something.

They keep you from hopping the border of sanity and you soon have a small mound of purple foil on your desk from them. You’re nowhere near proud of how many you ate, in fact you feel a little guilty, knowing you could have spent that money better.... Maybe on Karkat for something that he needed.

Guilt ate away at you a while longer until you get an email from your boss.

 _I need to have a word with you in the next few minutes._  

After rereading the message, you sigh, scooping up the chocolate wrappers and tossed them  into the small barrel under your desk. The work day was almost over, so her small chitchat with you would end it. You smile, seeing this as karma for all of your hard work.

The last chocolate in your drawer is popped into your mouth since having nothing to eat that day, but chocolate and a bagel left quite a bitter taste on your tongue. You decide that your few minutes are up and you head to your boss’s office. You stand in the doorway, knocking on her door and she looks up at you expectantly over her magenta glasses.

“Take a seat.” She is at her filing cabinet, clearing her desk and makes her gold earrings sway. You do as you’re told and wait for a response. Meenah Peixes is what the gold label on the front of her desk reads, and with her high power and sour aura combined, it’s safe to say that you find her intimidating.

She was quite a few years older than you, somewhere in her early thirties while you were fresh out of college at the young age of twenty three. It was strange being one of the youngest in your workforce; the dull atmosphere made you feel twice as old and left you longing to just leave.

“Now, you’ve been here for a good year now, so you may not have been so aware about our company’s shape.” She didn’t sound as confident as she had previously been, which could never be a good sign. It would almost be comforting if you’d stop overthinking. “Look Vantas, we’re going downhill with this place and I can’t keep everyone together as much as I want to.”

“What do you mean?” You blink slowly, trying to comprehend what she’s saying. Wow, you’re tired. She glared up at you with her deep brown eyes, pressing her plump lips into a thin line.

“Kankri I’m gonna have to let you go.” Before you could get a word in, she began babbling hollow apologies that sound fuzzy in your ears. You didn’t want to speak, nor did you think you were going to.

“It’s alright.” You murmured with a small smile. She shut her mouth, giving you an uneasy look before sighing.

“It was a pleasure having you.”

You nod and stand, walking to her doorway. “May I at least use one of the empty paper boxes to take my belongings home?”

She gives you a nod, returning to her work and you chose not to bother her anymore. She looked fairly remorseful with you still lingering in her office.  
  
 Thankfully there aren’t that many people left in your area of the building so they would not have to watch you with your walk of shame. You quickly packed up your belongings in the empty box you managed to scoop up beside the copying machine. All you have is a couple picture frames, two small silver ones to be exact, of Karkat as a toddler and a more recent photo of him; Aphrodite, your venus flytrap; and the empty bag of chocolates. They barely took up a quarter of the box, but you guess it didn't really matter. Before you even think of begging your position back from Peixes, you walk to the elevator. The loose objects shift along the cardboard bottom as you walk and come to a halt as you do outside of the elevator doors. A familiar face passes you as they exit the elevator and you shuffle in to the furthest corner of the shaft.

You miss the sweetness of those chocolates; you could really use them right now. You leave your office with a once sensational taste now gone bitter in your mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**August 12 th**

You don’t feel as worried as you should two days after being fired. It’s a strange experience, staying home all day, knowing that you have no other real priorities. Of course there’s Karkat, but today he felt okay and decided to go out with his friends. He hadn’t left the house for quite some time, so his sudden burst of energy had put a smile on your face that you haven’t worn in what feels like eternity.

The clock by your side reads twelve- something; you can’t tell how many minutes of the hour have passed since a glass of water is in the way and distorts your vision of it. Being home alone doesn’t feel that much different as when Karkat’s home sick. It’s equally quiet, though being by yourself guarantees that you won’t have to come to the rescue to buy out a pharmacy when your brother’s in pain.

Then again there’s the feeling of not being enough to handle the job that you once had.

_“It was a pleasure having you”_ your ass. Then again things come up in life and you just have to deal with them.

You finally decide to roll out of bed and get yourself something to eat. Overripe grapes and sunny side up eggs are what you decide to have, which once again reminds you that you have to go food shopping to.

Oh wait, you don’t have the money to.

Forget settling for this oblivion- as nice as it is to relax, you need to get back up on your feet again and search for a new job. You sigh and search for the laptop collecting dust under your bed. Maybe a part-time job would satisfy you if you still needed more time to yourself, but it all comes down to whether you have an income or not.

You scroll through pages and pages of Craigslist, reading over the brief descriptions of jobs that you don’t think would be enough for you. Even the category of accounting doesn’t suit your taste. Nothing does on this damn website and you close out of the tab and shut the laptop.

It’s almost disgusting how terrible you’re reacting to returning to work. Maybe you just need a longer break before you can think of work, but then again that’s selfish when you have a brother to support. For a start, you could check around town to see if any stores are hiring- just something to get you by.

It’ll be alright, you just need to calm down. At the office you’ve always been in overdrive, so a break would have some kind of strange reaction. This could also be a great opportunity to get back in tune with yourself, to see what _you_ actually want for yourself, though you shouldn’t get too carried away by it.

The laptop gets slid carefully back under your bed and you head down to the basement to simply relax. Since you’ve managed to redo the area, it’s become the cave for the household. When your own rooms aren’t enough, either you or Karkat occupy the cave all for yourselves. Since he was out today, you decided that this would be your time down there; maybe you could search through some storage and let memories numb you up some.

The last two stairs creak the loudest out of the whole staircase, no matter if you stomp down the stairs or tiptoe. It’s almost like a security alarm that had evolved as part of the house over the years. The extra couch that didn’t match any of the other furniture upstairs was kept down here, along with shelves for your keepsakes.

You had hung up more baby pictures of Karkat for yourself more than him. He still had the same face for over fourteen years, except in these ones the photographer actually got him to smile. You sigh and slump back on the misfit couch, already missing those days. He’s already fifteen years old…

Wait that means that you’re getting pretty damn old yourself. You frown and sit up straighter on the couch. You’re not that old, are you? No, of course not. You’re not even in your late twenties; you’ll be fine.

You get back onto your feet and search around the storage closet tucked away in the corner. Photo albums get put aside in the back corner of the very top shelf so that at your height it’s no more than a dark tower looming in the far back of the closet. Since you’re too short to see what else is on the shelf, your hand blindly pats around the area. You grimace when you feel dust begin to stick to your fingertips but eventually you find a binder.

It’s black and has your name written in silver Sharpie in the bottom right corner. This thing looks like it’s about to fucking fall apart in your hands, so you take it with both hands and skim through the pages.

You thought it’d be just some notes from your history courses in college, but instead you found yourself looking at your old sheet music. The edges of the papers were frayed, but thankfully it didn’t interfere with anything important. If you kept this, then your violin definitely couldn’t be too far away. The binder gets shut and you leave it on the couch after blowing off the layer of dust that was really starting to annoy you.

It isn’t until you have completely ransacked that closet that you found your violin case in the bottom corner, hidden by totes of camping gear that were collecting just as much dust and grime on them. By now you were nearly suffocating yourself with the funk of who knows how long and decide that it’s best if you relocate to the couch with your binder. Ugh, you definitely need to clean this thing when you get the chance. The buckles that secure the case shut are sticky with _something_ , which only traps the dust on them.

_Disgusting_. You never thought that you’d resort yourself to wipe anything on your shirt, but you figure that you’d wash it anyways. Wow, you’ve seriously let yourself go.

You huff and open the lid to see your untouched mahogany instrument. The strings are so out of tune that they droop onto the fingerboard. Your fingers pluck uselessly at them in an attempt to revive it before they curl around the neck and lift it out of its maroon, velvety grave.

Your metronome has its own compartment in the case hidden under where the neck rests. You dig it out and wipe its dust on your pants. Once the hairs on the bow are taut again and rosined up finely, you twist the tuning pegs at the top of your instrument, getting each string roughly into the range that it belongs in. With some further usage of the fine tuners everything seems right; though you’re a bit rusty since the last time you played in your college days. Just as you settle on the chinrest, your phone rings. You’re not quite in the mood to talk but obviously the person on the other line is.

Porrim Maryam is what the caller ID reads. You _really_ don’t want to pick up because you know you’ll crumble and weep to her about your terrible week.

“Kanny, why aren’t you picking up your work phone?” Her vanilla sweet voice pacifies your wracking nerves and you figure that you ought to tell her the truth now.

“I got fired.” You mumble and sit down with your violin, laying it beside you. There’s a gasp on the other line and it gets quiet for some time. With her persuasive coaxes, you somehow agree to meet up with her for a coffee. It’s a surprise that you actually managed to pull on a decent outfit and actually step out of the house.

Maybe your outfit isn’t the best after all when you realize how badly you’re sweating in a long sleeve shirt. Not the brightest idea, but that café is probably air conditioned. When you reach the small shop, you see Porrim beckoning you over to a corner table. She had already bought you both iced coffees and slid yours toward the empty seat in across from her.

You give a small smile and a nod in thanks, taking your seat. Her jade eyes are soft, though you can’t look back for long when there’s also an aura of pity and some, mostly on your half, embarrassment. Everything was looking fine for you so far and now you’re face is flat on the ground. You clear your throat and stir your coffee with your straw.

“Is there anything you need at the moment? We can go– ”

“No, you’ve done enough to help me for the past few years.”

“Kanny, what do you think friends do when they’re in need?” Porrim reaches out and places her hand over yours and she knows that you won’t dare cross her. You sigh and burrow your other hand’s fingers into your hair. This isn’t right, none of this is. You worked hard and made the best out of that scholarship and now you’re here.

“I seriously can’t thank you enough…”

“Hush, now I brought you here for a reason. You spent enough time sulking and I hate to say, but life’s going to stomp all over you. It really is.” She sits up straighter, tossing a wavy lock of hair behind her back and picking off miniscule pieces of lint that only she can see from her beige halter top. Her finger points at the front window that you had passed on your way here and you turn to see what she’s talking about. _Now hiring…_

“I know it’s small, but it’s a start. You should try applying today.”

You turn around to face her and she simply shrugs, knowing how you feel obliged to repay her as soon as possible. 

“I will later on today, I promise.” You take a sip of your coffee and she nods. You have no idea what to say after that since once again, she saved your ass. 


	3. Chapter 3

**September 7th 2012**

Of course with your charisma and rather impressive résumé, you received the opening position as a barista and work your shifts from four to eight. Porrim had actually taken care of a lot of errands for you as you slowly got back onto your feet –food shopping was done and Karkat was set to start his sophomore year with newly bought clothes and supplies. The people of the area were pleasant despite the occasional teenage punks you’d overhear raving about their Doctor Natural and Super Who. Something of that nature.

You really don’t care as of now because when the hell did this person say that they wanted whipped cream? Why do they have to be so angry? Speaking of anger, where’s that coworker when you need her? What even was her name? Since you can’t fight the power in the position you’re in, you go ahead and give them the hydrogenated oils they’ve apparently “bought the damn coffee for.” Wow, you almost miss that congested little cubicle you worked in. Only eight more minutes, you could do this…

Just as the relatively short line shifts along, you’re ready to drop your preppy performance and look as tired as you really are. You sigh and look up the next person in line and –dear lord, isn’t he gorgeous. The gears shift without having to be told twice, straightening your back and smiling a bit brighter. You guess it wouldn’t hurt to put effort into one more person, especially with that uniform.

“Good evening sir, how may I help you?” A dull pain set in your cheeks when you smiled up to him after reading his badge. Police Department… City of New York. At least it’s showing some respect, too.  Not everyone who comes in this place is serving for the city.

“Hm… a venti pumpkin spice latte sounds nice.” Damn, that’s a pretty heavy New York accent. He has to look down at you since you are fairly short for your age and wow his eyes are this stunning blue –or maybe they’re grey? If time could slow down, you’d take a closer look, but you’re too busy with his latte to focus on such a cute customer. You hate to admit it, but this is probably the most effort you’ve ever put into making a crummy drink for this place. Finally your wanted assistant comes along from the back room and gets back to work after tying her short bleach blonde hair into a small ponytail.

“Would you like whipped cream with that?” No. You already hear her taking over already and goodness gracious, she needs to get better at timing her breaks. You’ve chatted with her once or twice, though all she seems to talk about are the cute alleyway cats she sees on her way over here. You remember one time she snuck in a cat in her pink scarf before it went ape shit nuts and bolted out of the door. She’s unique, to say the least.

 Before you can even remind her that this is your customer, they’re already making small talk. What the hell? Is she really that much more likable than you?

“So Rox, how’ve you been doing here?” Roxy, that’s what her name was. You conclude that they somehow know each other, definitely not related though. Not with that accent, nor do they have any physical features in common.

“Eh, it’s not what I had in mind, but I guess I can’t complain.” She sighs and leans on the counter, just as tired as you though you seem to be doing twice the amount of work. “How’s everyone else?”

“They all miss ya, including myself.” Wow and now you feel kind of guilty with all the mental blame you put on her. Before things get too bittersweet between them, you hand him his latte with a smile. “Thanks, hun.” He flashes another grin and a wink your way, though you chose to ignore it and help the next customer as a rosy pink settles in your cheeks.

Roxy stifles a laugh, playfully smacking the officer’s forearm. “Don’t you dare –he’s adorable. He doesn’t even seem like your type anyways.”

“Aw, c’mon I’m just bein’ polite. Besides, how would you know that?”

“Because there’s no trash on that kid for you to pick at.” Just as you turn back to generate yet another exotically named coffee, you see how he rolls his eyes. You’re somewhat flattered by what Roxy had said, though you’re not sure if it was exactly a compliment. Matter of fact, all she’s saying is that you’re decent.

“Geez, that wasn’t harsh at all.” He moved out of the way so that the line could continue moving, leaning on the pick-up counter. Roxy had continued babbling onto him as well, picking at a hangnail while you finished up your shift.

“I’m giving you the truth, sonny.”

“You didn’t have to be so blunt about it.”

She only shrugged in response and yawned. The place is nearly empty, so you decide to take care of the last few orders before the line standing before the counter is no more. You sigh and drop your heavy smile, though it looks like a subtle frown.

“What’s with the long face?” It takes you a few seconds to realize that Roxy was talking to you. You simply shake your head, not wanting to get so upset at her for not even doing her damn job. Also, you still don’t want to make a bad impression on her friend. She beckons you over to stand beside her and join in on the conversation. After brief hesitation, you plant yourself alongside her and lean on the counter with them.

At least it’s Friday. You couldn’t take another day of doing all the work while she pets the cats that hang out around the dumpster out back. The three of you relax in a comfortable silence, eyes focused on the sleek black countertop. No more than five minutes pass and you’re waving goodbye to the two. You only give that charming officer one more glance, not bothering to return the smile he gives because fatigue weighs down too heavily on you. Hopefully he didn’t think of you being rude or unappreciative.

Without a doubt it makes the load of the day a little more manageable for you.

**September 21st 2012**

Whoever created the idea of workdays and weekends clearly doesn’t understand how your schedule works. It has been another sleepless night and early morning between you and Karkat due to his ridiculous fever which decided to ambush out of the blue. You sincerely hope he doesn’t have the flu or a stomach bug. There’s no way you can afford to catch anything and miss out on work. Public transportation is probably the easiest way to get sick, too, which leaves you with no choice but to start walking to work, which isn’t all that bad.

 Okay, maybe it is so bad this particular morning when no car understands what a red light means. If no one’s planning to stop, it’s probably best to just throw yourself out there when it isn’t so busy. When the coast seems clear you scurry across, and onto the parallel sidewalk. At least the little café was within eyeshot. Only half a block to go, you could do –oh, no you couldn’t. Not with him standing right in front of the entrance.

A pair of aviators sat on his nose to prevent the sun’s glare from blinding him. You subconsciously roll your eyes and ignore his idiocy, knowing that today was going to be a long day just like the past fourteen that he’s been here for.

“Wow you look like hell, you okay?” A thick eyebrow just barely rises above the lens that inscribes Ray-Bans in the top corner. You’re starting to find his comments annoying, especially at this time of day when you’re just starting to feel like you need a nap.

“Says the one wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day.” You grumble, walking right past him into the shop and behind the counter to leave your coat in the back and retrieve your brown apron to tie around your waist.

Roxy casually leans at the cashier counter, waiting for a customer. Her eyes are half shut and her black lips pull into a one-sided frown. From the corner of your eye you can see how her head perks up every few minutes. Yep, it’s definitely a slow day today.

“When do you think he’ll be here?” She drawls idly from the cash register, her nails beginning to tap along the side of an empty tip cup.

“I dunno, that kid can’t manage his time for life.” He removed his glasses and tucks them neatly into his pocket as he padded back inside, standing across from Roxy at the counter.

“Shutcha trap, Cro, yes I can.” You look up from where you had been cleaning the counters and there’s a smaller version of the dimwit officer with much better style scowling up at him. Dear lord, it’s not a surprise that these two know each other. You’ve seen him a few times during August, always coming here with a much more polite girl and complain at their table about nonsense doctors and for some reason you recall verbatim “Matt Smith’s eyebrows.” It was strange to see someone, especially of his age, wearing scarves during the summer nearly every time he strolled in the café. It was also the beginning of the times where you’ve noticed Roxy being less of a help to you since she would always go over there to chat with the two.

Now that you think about it, you’ve been putting up with that officer for two weeks and you don’t even know his name. You remember that the younger one’s name began with an E, but the rest of it is slipping away from your memory.

He adjusted the strap of his caramel leather messenger bag on his shoulder and gives Roxy a wave, who returns it, almost appearing relieved with his presence.

“Eri, you’re here right on time.” He ruffles the shorter one’s hair only to be rewarded with a growl from him.

“Stop it! No wonder why I didn’t decide ‘til now to be within a hundred feet radius of ya.” He slips his glasses further up his nose with a finger before smoothing back the tousled violet streak. You assume that these two are probably brothers or close family and leave to wash the cleaner off of your hands. Even at the sink in the back, you can hear the two bickering –or the younger one telling the older one to stop laughing at him.

You can’t help but to think of Karkat, he must be miserable back at home. Maybe you’ll cut him some slack and help him out with homework if he needs it or if his sickness doesn’t alleviate, it’ll be time to break his streak of perfect attendance. That also puts your mind out of the summer mindset and into your autumn one, meaning it’s time for flu shots before he’s the next victim.

“So why didja even bother to come see me anyways?” When you return you find the two sitting at a table while Roxy’s fixing them both a drink. She scribbles their names on their cups before beckoning you over. The table goes quiet other than some mumbling as you check to see what she wants.

 “This one’s for Eri, and that’s for Cronus.” She hands you a hot chocolate first and then a pumpkin spice latte. So Cronus was his name. Isn’t that the name of that Greek god that ate his children? The zarf on the hot chocolate is doing an awful job with keeping your hands from burning, so you hurry across to their table. You double check the two cups before handing them out. You give Eri’s his, though you keep in mind the address him as Eridan, which the cup scrawls up the side before his impressively ringed fingers shields the name from your sight.

“Thanks, doll.” Cronus gives you one of his trademark smirks as you slide his cup over to his hand, though you only narrow your eyes.

“I’d highly appreciate being called by my name.” You sigh and retrieve some cleaning supplies from behind the counter to wipe up some of the tables.

“Alright then, well what’s your name?” You’re a bit surprised to find that he actually cares. Just to be sure that he was in fact asking a legitimate question, you turn your head up to find his whole self turned in his seat and taking a sip of his latte.

“Kankri.” Eridan rolls his eyes when he watches his brother’s shit-eating grin form and looks through the leather bag he had brought with him for a book to busy himself with.

“What about Kan?”

“Didn’t I just tell you what my name was?” The corners of your mouth pull a little more downwards into a soft frown when you notice how he seems to find this amusing. “Your badinage isn’t appeasing anyone here; I certainly hope you realize that—”

“Whoa, okay slow down there boy genius, I didn’t mean to rustle ya feathers, alright?”

“If you call me by name, which I had responded to for years, there will be absolutely no reason for me to be offended.” He only shrugs and turns back to face Eridan before shaking his head with a small laugh.

“You know you can’t just say things like that Eri, especially with how you know Pops will react.”

“His name isn’t fuckin Pops an who even cares? He’s a hypocrite.”

“Touché, but still, be the bigger person in this situation.”

“Shut up, you’re just as guilty of it.”

“I didn’t say be like me, now did I?” You shift your eyes over to their table momentarily, their conversation now tuned out of your hearing range with mumbles. What are you doing eavesdropping in the first place? It’s about time for you to walk away and go make yourself useful, but there’s pretty much nothing to be done. Your dear coworker has already called it quits for the moment, perching herself up on the countertop just as the only customer you’ve had seated in the café walked out the door. With nothing better to do, you begin to refill the napkin dispensers even though they’re not even halfway empty yet. At least it makes you productive.

You feel out of place with the silence of the café, though outside leads to all kinds of noise. Usually Roxy and Cronus add to it with their banter and howls of laughter. There’s the gentle scrape of paper as Eridan flips a page in his book and then once again you’re caught in this strange new dimension of silence. It seems as if everyone’s ready to go to sleep and you hate how the weight hanging on your eyelids tempts you to give in. It seems as though nothing’s coming today and you certainly hope nothing will. No midnight fevers, no ungrateful customers. Just sleep would be nice right now.

Roxy had begun taking the untouched newspapers from one of the tables, unfolding it into large rectangles. You had watched her as she folded and refolded the same crease on both sides before tearing down it precisely to create a square. From there she proceeded to perform more difficult folds –origami that’s way out of your league. The most advanced thing you can fold from memory is a crane, but she stops after folding some kind of octagon before making yet another. Cronus leaves Eridan to his book, walking up next to Roxy and watching her fingers turn the old newspaper into a new spectacle.

“What’re you doin with it?”

“Making something.” She hummed, crumpling up the scrap pieces of the newspaper before tossing it in their recycle bin. Before you know it, you find yourself wandering over to where she was and peering over her other shoulder to watch.

“It’s going to take some time, boys.” She looked over both of her shoulders at the two. Cronus only shrugged.

“It’s not like we’ve got much better to do here.” He leans more on the counter, not minding the wait. Your eyes felt heavy, regardless of how fascinating her folding abilities were. The steel cylinders behind the counter daze back at you with your reflection, inviting you over. Wordlessly, you grab yourself a coffee and one of the cheese croissants that no one ever touches. The blonde had stopped folding, furrowing her eyebrows at you as you returned by her side.

After being the odd one out for a few minutes, you’re a trendsetter, seeing as Roxy had also gotten herself a tea and bagel. She takes a short break to stuff some of the bagel in her mouth and washes it down with scalding tea, which you don’t understand how she can just straight up gulp at that temperature. Then she’s back to business with folding. The motivation dies down for Cronus as she begins to fold the third octagon.

“How much longer is this thing going to take?”

Instead of telling him to shut up like how you had guessed, her next response was probably the most deliberative idea to ever roll off of her tongue.

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet –Jean Jacques Rousseau.”

Your chewing slows as the silence eerily creeps up on everyone, though you’re the only one who seems to notice. How she knows such a quote from a Genevan philosopher of the eighteenth century is out of your reach, but you take her word for it and work to find serenity in your new dimension. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I really didn’t expect to be waiting so long to upload. I’ve had bad luck trying to flag down a beta, so please forgive mistakes and such. I just didn’t see why not since this file has been sitting here completed for a month. Your patience, comments, and suggestions are greatly appreciated! and also if you’d be interested in being a beta, I could really use you guys right now. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, this is my first actual contribution to the homestuck fandom. Depending on how this goes I'll continue so thanks for reading kiddies u v u 
> 
> Furthermore, I'd love feedback, comments, suggestions etc.


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